Soft swirling
streams
of liquid violet,
moved around her body
like silk scarves.

Green gloves
touched
with the love
of living fruit,

rays of radiances
gave way
to smiles
birthed
from
****** canals.

Opposite
this virginal dancer
another lover sat,
female form
of cold blankness,
deathly pallor
of numb affection.

For one I wake
in grand *******,
but for the other
I stay alert,
putting her off
for as long
as opportunity
and will allow.

The smoky spasms
of specters passing
fill my teary blurred
vision;

Forced phantasms
of former friends
and family
which I remember
quite fondly,

The young girl
across the street
who was missing
a few teeth,

The old lady
and old man
who brought me up,
helping when they could,

The elderly grocer
of Kregor’s store
where I purchased
penny tootsie rolls,
and three cent
laughy taffy

The long dead dogs,
the trees,
the memories
of a younger me
living dangerously
hanging upside down
thick branches,

these spirits haunt me
partially paining
but mostly reminding me
of the good times.

A *******
with alcohol
did not turn
out so well.
He shoved her down
then dragged her up
as he yelled.

He hurt her hands
with his
hateful rage
squeezing
just to see
the pain
on her face.

Screaming,
“you’ll
notice this
now
you fat
******* cow.”

Her skin
swelled
like a
red balloon.
as she spoke
about
that raging buffoon.

Shadows circling
each bag under her eyes,
she cried
surprised
at the violence.

Then in a contortionist’s
sick fashion,
I watched her
twist herself
up in knots of
confusion
and weird love,
as she tried to
justify
our own abuse.

Writing is a gesture that ties my pleasure
As people walk in and out after a search
For the luminescent touch of knowledge
And the manipulation they wear dares
To become the only monster they treasure
Myriads of erudition and contemplations
Of the human mind, of the human kind
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
The biased subjective assessments
The reduced objective indoctrination
The social constructions of the reality itself
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
Such a relative weighted in apollonian seams  
That makes doctors to treat ailments
That makes a judge to rule a deluded justice
That makes a teacher drill a curriculum
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
Which make us question creation
Which reduces the metaphysics to nothing
Which validates the seen and not unseen
They offered us schools, those glass rules
That brings scholars to warm the benches
Such cruel rues, after years of toil
And there is neither guarantee for jobs
Such a robbery, a dare of mere mockery
So watch those children, as they wear bags
And trek to school everyday, another dystopia
So watch those children, paraded and uniformed
And as their eyes are matted with a bright future
The reality of the future they hold is contrary
For loans will bear the apex of their ribcage
For jobs will become a rare commodity
Artificial robots and self-driven cars
Automated rackets and self-serving checkouts
The obsolete conquest of human labor
Shall time be the only resource we bear?
It’s eventual but ever so inevitable

now and again
I tend my heart
leave facts and figures behind
   and enter the realm of feeling
where
   like in a primal ocean
float beings about to become
   not easy to classify
   almost before words

somewhat like a school
   of amorphous translucent jellyfish
   good vibes float towards
   a loved one
predatory shapes speed by
   to attack unfriendlies
bright orange-blue flowers
  shine in the wake
   of good food and company
a bright red coral reef
   hovers like a loving kiss
tumultuous slashing of the waves
   feels strong and overwhelming
   in blue-lit foamy white

I float back to the surface
   and
looking at the sky
   whose blue is as deceptive
   as that of the waters
I wait for my heart
   to tell me
which one
   to trust

       * *

walking
the streets of Vienna
with you
things come alive

   venerable palaces
   waltzing around St. Stephen's

   beautiful white horses
   from the Spanish Riding School
   galloping through the Schönbrunn Park

   old Sigmund F.
   ogling the Viennese Choir Boys

It was a bright and beautiful
brand new day
as she crossed the courtyard
with a lullaby on her lips,
saw the swans take off and fly,
then slowly descend
dipping their delightful necks in
the once still water
that was now surely stirring.

A sweet tune tantalized her tongue
as she hummed
something that bordered on forgotten,
it was powerful
but only echoed,
imperceptible
in her unconscious mind.

A fire swept through
her anxious gut
as she struggled
to recall
something she was certain
was important.

A dog barked.
Bees buzzed
about their honey making business.
She was certain
even anxious
she would not forget this,
but she missed
the magic of her musical muse,
and cursed herself
for not remembering the tune.

Time obscured
dawn’s radiance
the day died
a brilliant turquois
to dark blue and blackish
death,
and stillcont.
the song would not come.
It hovered within
her breath.
It beat beneath
her soft blossoming chest.
A tear fell
as she struggled
to unforget
the song she had lost,
but even in sleeping
and waking
the wonderful melody
would not return.